


let me take care of you

by cherryspliced



Category: Dragon Quest Series, Dragon Quest VIII
Genre: Angst and Fluff and Smut, F/M, First Time, Marriage, basically just some wholesome vanilla smut, cuz there isn’t nearly enough dq8 fics on this hellsite, oh also this takes place on the alternate ending, or my version of the alternate ending I guess, so spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-01-07
Updated: 2021-01-07
Packaged: 2021-03-17 21:54:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,626
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28607097
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cherryspliced/pseuds/cherryspliced
Summary: In a perfect world, a newly-wed couple makes the first consummation on their wedding night. Therein, Jessica realizes, lies her current issue. It’s not as if it’s because they aren’t compatible or in love because they are—at least, she insists to herself.Or: Eight & Jessica are stuck in marriage limbo with the latter being too scared to take the next step, but also too proud to admit it.
Relationships: Hero (Dragon Quest VIII)/Jessica (Dragon Quest)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 4





	let me take care of you

**Author's Note:**

> Hi this is my first fic and also English is actually not my first language so if some parts seem choppy or out of place don’t think about it too much please. 
> 
> Also please enjoy :)

In a perfect world, the newly-wed couple makes the first consummation on their wedding night. Therein, Jessica realizes, lies her current issue. It's not as if it's because they aren't compatible or in love because they _are_ —at least, she insists to herself.

The ceremony itself was brief and modest, but the celebrations were as phenomenal as a wedding for 2 saviors of the world could be. Naturally all their friends attended, even the king and Princess Medea who, thankfully, seemed to accept her childhood lover's decision with amiability. And after the party... well, Jessica didn't think much of it at first. The night had run long, and even afterwards there were so, so many guests to send off, so many servants to tip. Not to mention it took some doing getting the other pair of their little band to leave(Yangus, who had wet eyes the whole time and made drunken speeches about the "good old days" with his guv. Then Angelo, who was strangely sullen but wished her well all the same) Goddess bless them anyways. Her lids were heavy as they both lay there together, crushing the delicate frills of the brocade-silk sheets that her mother had spent so much money on. She felt bad for it, but she saw Eight watching her from the other pillow, with the same sunken eyes. She smiled at him and they fell asleep just like that: with their hands interlocked and their clothes still decently intact. It was, she realizes now, exactly the same as their routine on their journey. She laughs bitterly at how much more natural it felt being cramped together in a single room or even a tent than there. On those bridal sheets.

But a day passed and then a week... and then several. Now, a near _month_ later, she's thinking about it as she sticks to what has subconsciously been dictated _her_ side of the bed. And Eight on his. He's asleep now, has been long enough for Jessica to be brave enough to shift onto her side—a little closer—and watch him. He lies straight on his back, hair messed and his delicate features illuminated by the moonlight. Even when asleep, he's quiet. And so courteous, too, never touching or invading her space, save for the oh-so-passionate handholding.

_Nothing had changed._

... Or worse if anything. They've had their embraces and their sweet kisses, but now Jessica has no choice but to be blunt with herself: they've hit a wall. But it's even harder to admit that it's herself whose put the very wall up. Sure, only an hour ago he'd been waiting here, watching her intently like he had on the first night. Only it was different. He wasn't tired. And Jessica wasn't either, but she pretended to be. The reason alluded her, but she merely conjured up a faux yawn, kissed him chastely on the lips and wished him a good night. He didn't push her. But then, she couldn't imagine him doing so. He was taciturn and broad, but also kind and unbelievably patient.

_She hated it._

~*~

Today she watches him from the window, a tiny figure tussling playfully with 2 even smaller figures. Bangers always spoke critically of"Mr. Jessica", but there was always a glow in his young cheeks to suggest he'd already warmed up to him from the first. A bit like Jessica, if she's honest. She can see her brother's grave from here too, a bouquet of stale roses lying on the stones. Those roses pain her, as if Alistair has already been forgotten by everyone but her.

She wonders briefly... if he were here with her now, if she would be able to confide her worries in him. It would be embarrassing, and he would laugh and tease her until she tried to stomp away. Then he would apologize. He'd probably say something to lighten her worries, like, _what's there to worry about?_

Indeed, what _was_ there to worry about? She's confident enough in her feminine assets to wile her way out of any battle. And she's tougher than nails, besides. Tough enough to make her way without falling back on anyone, even her own mother. Tough enough to fight the Lord of Darkness and win. And _Goddess confound it_ , she was tough enough to fuck, too.

Her eyes flit, briefly noting it will rain soon. Then her eyes land on her husband again. As if sensing it, he looks up. They catch eyes for a moment. She looks away.

~*~

It does storm, just as she predicted. She watches the black downpour from the same window, only this time she's found her resolve. The air is thick with perfume. Fire-red hair spilled over her shoulder that she already must have brushed out at least 7 times, same nightgown but the only thing she can really think about is that she's not wearing any undergarments underneath. A muscle in her cheek twitches. Her finger taps an agitated tattoo against the windowsill. _No, she can do it_ , she reminds herself, and she will.

There's faint footsteps and then the door opening and closing. He greets her and she says hi back, even though she can't look at him. A pause. He says that Bangers and Mash are suiting up to become fine warriors, just like she said they would. She tries to conjure up a smile she means. Then he mentions that Rosalind is worried about her. At this she looks up.

"Why?"

He shrugs. "You look like you're not feeling well lately." Ah. That.

It's probably worth mentioning that, even though Jessica would never confide in her mother about such things, there was a good chance Rosalind suspected foul play anyways. She couldn't help but feel humiliated as she recalled the day after the wedding when Rosalind came ostensibly to say some sympathetic words to prepare her daughter for married life, but even a blind man would have noticed the way she was eyeing the sheets. Her ever-disapproving frown grew larger. Goddess only _knows_ what was going through her head.

"I'm fine," Jessica states, cringing at how forced her cheerful tone sounds. She slips off her perch to approach him as she always does, except there's a difference in the way she kisses his mouth, takes his hands and placed them against the heat of her ribs. It's slow and deliberate. "In fact, I'm feeling better than ever." His face is blank.

"You are? That's good." His voice notably an octave lower makes her heart pound. They kiss again, gentle kisses that get progressively deeper. She guides one hand lower to the halfway point between her hip and rump, but the other gets free to run his fingers over her jaw and into her hair. She knows he loves her hair. It's the first thing he told her when she confessed her feelings. Finally he pulls away. "You're shaking."

She noticed. "I—It's nothing." She lets go as well and makes herself take place on the bed. This time, she doesn't stick to her side and lays squat in the middle. She pats the place beside her and he obliges. As soon as he's down, that's when she pounces. She's quick to straddle him and can't help a high-pitched nervous giggle as she spies the surprise in his eyes. Ignoring her own embarrassment, she bends down and presses her mouth against his again. It takes a few seconds for him to kiss her back. He gently slides his hands up her thighs, slow enough that she could tell him to stop if she wanted to. Only she doesn’t dare since they’ve come this far. With it comes the hem of her nightgown. He pulls it over her head and it falls to the side. As much as she tries, she can’t bring herself to see his reaction. But she feels his breath hitch, and then something pressing hard against her ass. He presses featherlight touches to her arms and she feels tingly.  
  


_So gentle._

Jessica, unfortunately, isn’t. At least in her haste. Her hands shoot for his belt, fumbling to free him from his clothes. When she does _it_ springs free. She resists the urge to let loose another girly shriek. Free-spirited as she is, she’s never seen a man’s privates, let alone one fully erect. She swallows, dry throat protesting, and momentarily has second thoughts about the already-weakened confidence of her plan. She flinches hard when his hands hold her face, making her aware of how warm her cheeks are. Maybe it’s the lighting that make his eyes look so dark, or... “Don’t push yourself,” he rasps. She wants to listen but doesn’t. She doesn’t even think about it, maybe because she knows if she does then she’ll chicken out. She hastily raised her hips and lowers herself back onto his cock, not thinking particularly of _where_ it will go or _how_ it will get in, just hoping it will work out in its own weird way.

It doesn’t, really, obviously. She hears him protest but keeps pushing down, down, _down_ past the sharp tearing, and then the sudden warm oozing as if she’s been impaled by a jagged knife. She doesn’t realize a pained sob has seeped its way past her teeth.

“ _Stop. Fuck, stop!_ ” He grits out sharply through clenched teeth. She jumps at it. A tone of voice he’s only ever used a few times, so she knows she’s screwed up. But she can’t move. It hurts.

“Ow. _Owwwww_.”

_It hurts. Alistair, it hurts._

But it’s done. It’s over with, the hard part. She did it.

She doesn't realize she's suddenly crying. Large tears pool into the crevice of her nose, down her chin, onto his chest. She buries her face in his shoulder and weeps inconsolably. His body is stiff under her. But he doesn't question, doesn't press her. She feels his arms slowly wrap around her. He holds her tightly and waits. He has such wonderfully strong arms, she thinks. It feels sturdy here. It feels safe.

She wipes an eye. “I’m sorry.”

“It’s ok. You’re ok.”

“I-it’s just—I thought. No, it’s just that I wanted to...” a clumsy confession spills out of her, though the more she explains that she thought of how a quick consummation might assuage her fears, she realizes how stupid she sounds. Ooh, it’s so _unfair_. But she peeks at his face and he simply listens with a neutral expression as he has always done, though something in his eyes makes it feel like he already expected this, or even found it amusing. Finally after a brief period of silence, he speaks.

“You don’t always have to act so tough.” A part of her wants to contradict him, but now knows better.

“I know. I... I’m sorry. This was supposed to be special but I ruined it, didn’t I?”

“We can still make it special.”

“It’s still scary.” She admits, feeling like a child.

“Almost as scary as the Lord of Darkness.” It wasn’t funny but she laughs a wet laugh.

“Or Yangus in briefs.” And then _he_ laughs, a clear and bell-like sound that makes her feel infinitely better.

“... I’ve put my life in your hands before.” He did. More times than she could count on both hands, probably. He brushes his fingers through her sweat-damp hair and speaks gently to her. “Put tonight in mine.” Then, like an afterthought he mumbles, “Let me take care of you.”

She hesitates. A moment passes, then some.

Weakly, she nods.

He holds her for a second more, and then slowly turns her over till she’s lying on her back. She looks down at herself and sees red, the sight makes her lightheaded. But he kisses her deeply and tells her to look only at him. He peppers the corners of her mouth, her forehead, her cheeks. Below the neck he presses his mouth in between her breasts, licking the underside of one and taking the nipple into his mouth. All the while he kneads comforting circles into her hips with his thumbs. The contact makes her breathless and dizzy, the muscles of her stomach twitching. A strange warmth between her aching legs blossoms, then grows hotter as her husband crouches so that his mouth is sucking at her belly button. She pants as he presses an open-mouthed kiss just above where her pubic hair sprouted.

_The tease._

“Hah,” he pauses, gazing at her with an expression that she can only describe as pure love. Her face grows hotter and she ducks her head. He places another kiss on the inside of her thigh before adjusting himself to her, with her legs over his thighs and the tip of his cock pressed against her torn entrance. Here it comes. Slowly, slowly, he eases himself into her and sighs.

“Is this good?” He says breathlessly. _Like rubber chafing against an open wound_ , is the first thought that comes, but she smiles encouragingly and nods anyways. He waits a beat, then begins to rut slowly. Despite her initial arousal, the contact hurts enough for her to shut her eyes tight and grit her teeth. He maintains the easy pace until her body seems to adjust to the presence of his, a foreign pleasure overtaking the soreness.

“A-ah,” an arm raised, elbow and fist against the headboard and the other covering her mouth to lessen the embarrassing sounds that spill out of her. “Hah, ahh,” It doesn’t help much when Eight seems to take this as encouragement to quicken the pace. He adjusts himself again, at an angle that spreads her wider, pushes deeper. The rhythm is enough to make her toes curl. A myriad of sensations assault her. The lewd sound of wet squelching and his damp flesh slapping against hers, the feeling of being stretched and filled makes thin lines of drool slip out of her mouth. She can’t even think in this moment, but if she could, it would probably be that she should have worked up her courage much earlier. “E-Eight, I’m gonna...!”

He pushes down so that her hands are cinched on his shoulders, their rapid breaths mingling. It’s just as he kisses her that she cums, swallowing a loud moan as her pussy tightens and shudders around him. He give several hard thrusts and then goes stiff, a groan slipping through his clenched teeth. An intense heat fills her, and then they go limp together.

It’s dead quiet aside from their heavy breathing. Minutes pass, and despite the slick sweat that coats the both of them she holds him tightly to herself. Finally they lay sated, and Jessica feels relaxed enough to feel her eyelids drooping fast. She forced herself awake long enough to mumble, “I love you, Eight.” There’s no response at first. Just as she falls asleep she feels a kiss pressed against her cheek.

~*~

After every storm there’s a new day. This one matched Jessica’s mood perfectly. The sun was shining, birds sang outside the window, which she now left open to let the fresh breeze in. Attributing to her intense soreness, she planned to take the day easy—not that Eight would let her do otherwise. Speak of the devil, there he was taking a stroll just outside the house. He looked up and caught eyes with her. He smiled. This time she could smile back.

She heard the door creak open and turned to see her mother peeking in. Without any word or warning the woman stepped into the room and took one good look at the bed—now totally messed and spotted with dried blood splatters that Jessica was too grossed to clean up yet—and huffed.

“ _Finally_ , I can expect some grandchildren.”

“ _Mum!_ ”

**Author's Note:**

> My first fic is smut... I’m pretty ok with that. 
> 
> When I was writing this I was thinking of the npc in Alexandria who says that Jessica acts tough but is actually timid on the inside. I hope I managed to convey that part of her. 
> 
> If you liked it then please expect me to revive the dq8 part of this fandom with my own 2 raunchy hands. Probably. 
> 
> If you liked please leave kudos and/or a comment.
> 
> Thank you for reading :)


End file.
